Bitten by the night’s cold air, he dug his hands into his pockets and discovered the dreamcatcher. He held it up, between his line of vision and the purple coyote star. The web refracted the star’s light into rainbows glistening along the threads. Perhaps the sinews were coated with a resin that shimmered. The colorful beams spilled down the beads and feathers at the base and onto his arm and lap, in the same way that good dreams were transferred to the protected sleeper.
He whirled around, searching for Waapake’s spirit. Instead, he heard clear, flute-like notes of the bittersweet melody Unole had sung to the dead coyote—farewell to reality but welcome the coming spirit world reunion. A wordless version emitted from her star. The music poured over his soul, and he embraced its message: death was natural, not an end, because the dead lived on in those who treasured their memories.
He lifted the dreamcatcher higher, allowing its light to spill over his head and shoulders, his chest and heart. The memories of each person he’d loved and lost glowed like polished silver, each a treasured keepsake. This was how to remember their lives, not by counting the days they didn’t spend on earth.
As he returned to the house, light from the security lamps shone in full circular patterns, not distorted by the veil of death—when had it lifted?
***
Gliding through twilit woods of the Hollow she’d never traversed, Unole recognized the great willow, not by sight, but by the way her voice reverberated from the limbs, rocks, and water. Shapes still registered, remaining in her soul, after the flesh and blood of her mind became lost to her.
She detected Keir as a ball of energy beneath the willow’s weeping sway. A few feet nearer, the patterns formed a rough image of him leaning against the trunk as he stared at the water. With her own energy sweeping to and fro with the willow’s sad dance, she read his emotions: loneliness, disappointment, and sadness—though thankfully not self-blame or regret—tethered him with manacles. Despite that, wisps of lightness floated from his head with love and acceptance.
She hesitated, enthralled with the outcome she’d hoped for when she convinced him to use her father’s medicine. It had been a terrible risk, one she feared. She had lost, though by Adara’s hand, not his. Knowing that he benefitted, she could fully welcome the transition to the afterlife and reunite with her mother. Despite death, with death, she found reward beyond all measure.
After a few moments longer, she touched her energy against his.
He flinched and looked around.
“Keir, it’s Unole. Can you see me?”
His eyes narrowed for an instant, then the lines cutting his forehead eased. “Yes, I can. Is it really you?” His voice broke with emotion. He reached his arms around her, and she longed to feel his embrace instead of cold, empty air.
She couldn’t bring herself to answer his question and, instead, replied with one of her own. “What do you see?”
He stroked a hand across where her head might have been. “Your black hair is glossy with blue highlights from the near-full moon.”
“It is a lovely moon, full tomorrow for Imbolc. What else about me do you see?”
“Your brown eyes shine with your star’s purple light.” At arms-length, he smiled at her.
“My star remains to guide you … always will. Great Coyote won’t allow it to fade. What else do you notice?”
“You smell sweet like jasmine and tuberose.”
She sighed at his confusion about what was real and what wasn’t. “You see and smell these things from your memories alone. I am not alive, only a formless spirit transitioning to another place and another shape which I do not yet know.”
“No!” He yanked his arms away. “You look real and feel real. I don’t understand.”
“I’m sorry. I came to say goodbye. We didn’t have that chance. I can’t go on without letting you know—”
“Know what?”
“After watching my mother die, I stupidly feared death. I was wrong. When I saved Adara’s life, I accepted a bargain that she would do the same for me if ever I needed—and she did. The deal was facilitated by Death’s Spirit and I learned too late—only he stood to gain. He tied our lives and deaths together. If one passed, so would the other.”
“Why?” Keir cried, his face contorted, then he briefly looked down. When he looked upon her again, his expression revealed an ease of acceptance. He said with a calm voice, “We both made mistakes.”
“Yes. We’re both free of them now; we freed each other by exchanging gifts. There’s one last thing you must know: you are brave and strong to be able to imagine me, not as a lifeless corpse, but as a free and happy young woman who loved you. My spirit will always love you.”
His lower lip quivered. “Unole, I love you. Please stay with me—in whatever form you must take, now or when you find your afterlife.”
Before parting, she touched his lips, surprised and saddened to find them coated with light from her own star, which prevented her from tasting his soft skin. She was swept away, her energy whirling her into chaos she could not control.
Chapter Twenty-four: Imbolc
A sob clinched Keir’s chest, but he caught it before the tightness unleashed more tears— overcame the joy. Unole’s love would remain with him always. The thought made him smile.
As he turned from the great willow, a vaporous form appeared in the distant woods. Passing through tree trunks and thickets, the spirit barreled straight for him.
Keir clutched a hand to his chest. No cover would protect him; he had nowhere to hide.
Four legs racing at top speed, translucent ears flapping, wisps of silvery hair flowing—Waapake!
Arms swept open wide, Keir ran to meet him.
Panting with his tongue lolled to one side, Waapake leapt for his master, and the two tumbled to the ground.
Keir hugged Waapake’s furry neck, as warm and tangible as his own body. Yet he’d passed through solid trees. “Are you real? Or is my memory fooling me again?”
“Look!” Aggie’s voice cried out and she bounded along the trail to join them. She dropped to her knees and petted Waapake, her eyes moist, a smile lighting her face. “The coyote tip of my wand vibrated, told me to go to the creek’s bend.”
Keir pulled her in with one arm, his other around Waapake. Keir’s heart drummed warmth throughout his body. Grinning wide, he tasted the salt of his tears.
The others, Logan, Rowe, and Jancie, rustled through the brush to encircle them.
Still rubbing the coyote’s fur, Keir sat back and conveyed a question through his touch as he also asked aloud, “How are you alive?”
His familiar pointed his tan muzzle skyward, then barked, “Great Coyote says his third and final lesson is now done. You’ve made peace with loss.” He galloped off in the direction he’d come.
“Wait! Come back! Don’t leave me.” Keir floundered to his feet and stumbled after him, his friends also in pursuit.
Waapake disappeared behind a wide oak. He’d left Keir, just like Unole did.
Keir ran faster, his heart thundering as if it might break his ribs. “Waapake!” He leaped over an outcrop of brambles in order to see behind the tree but saw nothing.
When he was thirty feet away, Waapake stepped out, his body now fully opaque, paws crunching dried leaves underfoot. Behind him stood a vision of Unole, a diaphanous ghost.
Keir cut his pace to a cautious walk, trying to make sense of the sight before him.
Close behind him, Aggie let out a gasp.
Waapake slowly moved forward. Unole followed, her form taking shape, depth, and texture with each step. Her silk blouse shimmered, her hair shone with blue luster. A wide smile lifted her cheeks and framed the starlight in her eyes.
Keir touched a hand to her cheek, and flecks of green brightened her hazel irises. Afraid to ask the question lodged in his throat, he couldn’t breathe, just stared. Am I losing my mind?
Unole leaned closer and brushed her lips against his. The heat of skin touching
skin sparked joy within his heart.
He grabbed her tight against him.
She’s real.
In the distance, car doors shut and voices murmured as the woods rustled.
Several minutes passed with Keir stroking her hair, while they both wept happy tears. When giddy laughter overtook them, Logan touched Keir’s shoulder. “I … um, some of the coven members asked to celebrate Imbolc night with you. To show their support for you as their seer. I expected you’d be here at the bend with the willow to mark the sabbat. Told them to join us at moonrise. I didn’t know … if you want me to turn them away …”
“No.” Keir pulled back from Unole, though kept his arms at her waist. “It’s fine—it’s great, I think.” He glanced at her and asked, “If it’s what you’d like?”
“I would like nothing more.” She beamed and took his hand. “We can gather at the great willow.”
Rowe held out his hand to Jancie, who accepted with a smile, and they led the way back to the stream.
Beneath the willow’s bower, Keir and Unole faced each other, hand in hand with Waapake between them.
The others took positions around the perimeter. When they linked arms, fae lights flickered along the swaying branches. As more coven members arrived, they created additional rings around the tree.
Blinded by brightening lights and the sight of Unole before him, Keir didn’t know how many gathered. Judging from the intensity of the fae lights, which were stirred by surrounding positive energy, maybe hundreds—the strength of their goodwill swelled his heart.
Logan’s voice rang clear. “Let us now honor the sabbat.” Murmurs silenced and he continued. “Light of a full moon upon a willow is auspicious, especially on this night of Imbolc, the threshold between winter and spring. The willow reflecting in the water brings the full moon’s magic to Earth, which may have helped bring Unole and Waapake back to us.” He paused, neither lighting candles or inviting the four winds.
Keir didn’t know whether the high priest was uncertain about how to continue, given the recent tragedies, or waited for him, as seer, to offer a customary sabbat lesson. It took Keir only a moment to formulate a meaningful message. “In recent days, we have seen and experienced death. We must recognize death as a transition not to be feared any more than the peace found beneath a willow lit by a full moon. Let us now be transported to a place of peace as we welcome the Goddess transforming into a maiden, the Sun God becoming a man on this Imbolc night.”
Celebrating what both death and life had offered him, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Unole’s.
A long moment of silence engulfed those gathered. The only sounds were from the tinkling of fae along the willow’s limbs and the gentle rush of the current swelled from snowmelt at winter’s end.
At last, when people stirred and Keir swept the curtain of branches aside for Unole to pass, he asked her, “Your father told me to call him after we observed Imbolc. He didn’t want to talk about your death until then. How do I explain—”
“You know you don’t need to,” she said with a lyrical laugh. “Great Coyote has already told him.”
**The End**
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A Note from the Author
If you enjoyed reading about Jancie’s adventures in Witch’s Windsong, please look for other books in my Coon Hollow Coven Tales series. The series, written to be read in any order, is about one community. Its residents may pass in and out of various books, but each book has its own unique and special story to be told.
Also, if you liked this book, I’d very much appreciate if you’d help spread the word and post a review on Amazon, Goodreads I’d very much appreciate if you’d help spread the word and post a review on Amazon, Goodreads, blogs, or wherever you like to talk about books.
I love to hear from readers. At my website MarshaAMoore.com you can contact me, read my blog, and find my social media connections. To be notified about my new releases, exclusive prizes and giveaways just for subscribers, and best of all, opportunities to receive advance copies of my newest books in exchange for honest reviews, sign up for my newsletter. As a thank you gift for subscribing, you’ll receive my paranormal romance short story, Ruler of the Night.
—Marsha
Other novels and stories by Marsha A. Moore
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MarshaAMoore.com
Coon Hollow Coven Tales:
Genre: urban fantasy romance
Those be the witches who draw bliss and bane from the smallest slip of nature—strong old ways.
If you think you’re brave enough to venture deep into Coon Hollow Coven’s forest ravines, consider this—rumor has it that their witchcraft lives and breathes through souls of dead kin. Why else would they uphold a 1930s lifestyle from the time their founding families settled the southern Indiana hill country? Folks from the neighboring small town of Bentbone mostly don’t mind…or at least try their best to keep safe distance from coven members. But for some townies, nothing will keep them from falling into those witches’ bliss and bane.
COON HOLLOW COVEN TALES series was inspired by the neck of the woods where Marsha A. Moore spent her favorite childhood years surrounded by the love of a big family. The tales are set in a fictitious community, south of Bloomington, and the books are rich with a warm Hoosier, down-home feel.
If you like mysterious goings-on in secluded hill country villages & deep forest ravines, sprinkled with heaps of witchy magic, mysticism &adventure, then you’ll love Coon Hollow Coven Tales.
A note to readers: ALL THE COON HOLLOW COVEN TALES NOVELS CAN BE READ AS STAND ALONE BOOKS. The series is about one community, and its residents may pass in and out of various books, but each book has its own unique and special story to enjoy.
Witch’s Moonstone Locket
A local witch might have the griever’s moonstone locket, which allows the wearer to talk with the dead. Determined to find that locket, Jancie goes to the coven’s annual carnival. This opposes her father’s strict rule—STAY AWAY FROM WITCHES!
Twenty-three-year-old Jancie Sadler was out of the room when her mother died, and her heart still longs for their lost goodbye. Aching to ease her sorrow, Aunt Starla gives Jancie a diary that changes her entire life. In entries from the 1930s, her great grandmother revealed how she coped with her own painful loss by seeking out a witch from nearby Coon Hollow Coven. The witch wore the griever’s moonstone locket, which allowed whoever could unlock its enchantment to talk with the dead.
Determined to find that locket, Jancie goes to the coven’s annual carnival held in her small southern Indiana town of Bentbone. This opposes her father’s strict rule: stay away from witches. But she’s an adult now and can make her own decisions. She meets Rowe McCoy, the kind and handsome witch who wears the moonstone. He agrees to let her try to open the locket, but they’re opposed by High Priestess Adara and her jealous desire to possess him. Desperate for closure with her mother, Jancie persists and cannot turn away from a perilous path filled with magic, romance, and danger.
Witch’s Moonstone Locket is a stand-alone book in the Coon Hollow Coven Tales series. If you enjoy mystic adventures and have ever wanted to speak to the dead, then you’ll love Marsha A. Moore’s quest for the elusive gemstone.
Buy Witch’s Moonstone Locket and join the search!
Witch’s Cursed Cabin
Aggie alone must stop Coon Hollow's evil curse or both the living & dead will suffer.
Eager to be on her own away from home, twenty-year-old Aggie Anders accepts a relative’s invitation to live in Coon Hollow Coven. Although she’s a witch from a different coven, what locals say about the Hollow confuses her. How can witchcraft there live and breathe through souls of the dead?
Aggie’s new residence in this strange southern Indiana world is a deserted homestead cabin. The property’s carriage house serves as the coven’s haunted Halloween fundraiser. It’s a great opportunity for her to make new friends, especiall
y with the coven’s sexy new High Priest Logan.
But living in the homestead also brings Aggie enemies. Outsiders aren’t welcome. A cantankerous, old neighbor tries to frighten her off by warning her that the homestead is cursed. Local witches who practice black magic attempt to use their evil to drive Aggie away and rid their coven of her unusual powers as a sun witch.
Determined to stay and fit in, Aggie discovers not only that the cabin is cursed, but she alone is destined to break the curse before moonrise on Samhain. If she fails, neither the living nor the dead will be safe.
Witch’s Cursed Cabin is a stand-alone book in the Coon Hollow Coven Tales series. If you enjoy the legends of banshees, customs of Samhain, and everything Halloween, then you’ll love Marsha A. Moore’s battle between a young witch and black magic.
Buy Witch’s Cursed Cabin to see if this Samhain will be the coven’s last!
Blood Ice & Oak Moon
Esme Underhill is about to discover a darkness hidden inside her that could destroy her chance for independence and possibly kill her.
Esme’s mother took her young daughter away from Southern Indiana’s Coon Hollow Coven to prevent her from learning about the unusual witchcraft she had inherited. When Esme is twenty-seven, her beloved Grammy Flora passes away and leaves her property in the Hollow to her granddaughter. With this opportunity to remake her life and gain independence, Esme attempts to emulate Grammy Flora as a wildwood mystic who relies on the hedge world of faeries to locate healing herbs. But fae are shrewd traders. When they open their world to her, she must meet the unknown malevolence of her birthright.
Thayne, the handsome king of the fae Winter Court, faces his own struggle to establish autonomy as a new regent. He is swept into the tempest of Esme’s unfolding powers, a dangerous threat to his court. His sworn duty is to protect his people, despite Esme’s beauty and allure, which tear at his resolve.
Witch's Windsong (Coon Hollow Coven Tales Book 5) Page 19